Liz Fielding

Mistletoe Brides


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uniform wasn’t tight, but there was no missing her enticing curves and he felt the immediate and powerful response of his body. As irritated by his reaction as he was surprised, he turned his attention back to the child, assuming that it was just that ridiculous conversation with his sister that was suddenly turning his thoughts to sex in the middle of his working day.

      ‘So you sit next to Annabel.’ Liv spoke in a calm, gentle voice that removed all the stress from the room and smoothed Stefano’s frayed nerves like the stroke of a velvet glove. ‘And who is your teacher?’

      ‘Miss Grant.’ The little girl smiled at her. ‘She has her hair in a ponytail, like you.’

      ‘Well, that’s the best way to wear it for work, especially if it’s curly because it can get in your eyes. So how did you fall on your finger?’

      Aware that Greg Hampton was about to speak, Stefano silenced him with a lift of his hand and a searing glance, intensely irritated that the man would even consider intervening when the nurse clearly had full control of the situation.

      Fortunately the child hadn’t even noticed their presence. ‘I did it yesterday. We were practising the nativity play,’ she was saying, ‘and I tripped over a sheep. I mean, not a real sheep, actually it was Gareth, dressed as a sheep. But I fell on my finger, I mean like all my weight was on my finger.’

      Stefano watched as Liv listened attentively to the child’s story and then carefully examined the child’s finger.

      Her hair was the rich brown of a conker and it gleamed and shone under the harsh emergency room lights. Although it had been pulled back into a ponytail, several curls had escaped and now drifted around her face. Having not looked twice at a woman for months, Stefano found himself staring. She wasn’t wearing a trace of make-up and yet her lashes were thick and dark and her cheeks had a healthy glow. But what really drew his attention was her absolute focus on the little girl.

      She wasn’t thinking about herself or her appearance. She hadn’t even noticed that he was standing in the doorway.

      Suddenly his mind drifted back to the conversation he’d overheard the day before.

       Why did Anna want to buy her hot sex for Christmas?

      Stefano dismissed the question instantly as one of those things that women laugh about and men are better off not knowing.

      But his eyes trailed back to her mouth and lower.

      She didn’t look like a woman who needed someone else to find her hot sex.

      Why had Anna been hugging her? Had something happened? Was there something wrong in her life?

      ‘Ouch. That’s the bit that really hurts.’ The little girl winced as Liv gently manipulated her fingers.

      ‘It’s bound to hurt because it’s really bruised, can you see? It’s just a bit black there—over the joint. I think you’re incredibly brave.’

      The little girl looked doubtful. ‘I was crying.’

      ‘I’m not surprised.’ Liv’s tone suggested that anything less would have been unthinkable. ‘If it were my finger, I would have cried, too. I think you’ve been amazing. But what we need to do now is fix it so that it doesn’t hurt so much. What were you in the nativity play?’

      ‘A star. Is it broken?’

      ‘Well, I’m going to take a look at your X-ray and then have a chat with the doctor.’

      ‘Not the same doctor as before?’ The child shrank slightly. ‘He was really angry with me—’ Suddenly noticing Greg in the doorway, she snatched her hand back. ‘He’s not going to touch me.’

      The atmosphere altered in the blink of an eye.

      Deciding that swift intervention was called for if he wasn’t to lose all chances of examining the child himself, Stefano cast a meaningful glance towards his less experienced colleague and strolled into the room.

      ‘Ciao, cucciola mia.’ He addressed the little girl directly but her eyes were fixed on Greg in horror.

      ‘I don’t want him to be my doctor.’

      ‘He isn’t your doctor.’

      ‘So why is he here?’

      ‘Because he works with me.’ Well aware that his height and physique could make him intimidating, Stefano dropped into a crouch so that he was at the same level as the child. ‘So you fell off a stage, is that right?’

      ‘Yes.’ Finally the little girl looked at him and her expression was curious. ‘Why do you speak with a funny accent?’

      Stefano smiled. ‘Because I’m from Italy.’

      ‘Like pizza? I love pizza.’

      ‘Just like pizza. So tell me…’ Stefano gently took her hand in his and examined her fingers ‘…what is your favourite pizza?’

      ‘Margarita, but not too cheesy and no lumps of tomatoes.’

      ‘Obviously you are a woman who knows what she wants.’ Amused, Stefano turned the child’s hand over. ‘Show me how you fell on your hand.’

      ‘I fell all on one finger, like this…’ The little girl pretended to stab the ground and Stefano pulled a face.

      ‘Well, that is why your finger is hurting. You are supposed to walk on your feet, not your finger.’ Gently he manipulated the finger. ‘Does this hurt? This? Can you squeeze—make a fist?’

      As he examined the dark bruising over the back of the finger, he was acutely conscious of Liv next to him. He allowed himself one sideways glance, but she wasn’t even looking at him. All her attention was still focused on her little patient.

      ‘I thought it was probably a volar plate injury,’ she murmured and Stefano silently compared her calm efficiency with Greg’s ineffectual arrogance.

      ‘I agree.’ Impressed, he gave her a rare smile but she didn’t even seem to notice.

      She didn’t blush, stare or send him a subtly flirtatious look. In fact she didn’t look at him at all. Instead, she rose to her feet, her eyes still on the little girl. ‘You’ll have to be careful with that finger for a few weeks, Bella.’

      Stefano was so accustomed to being cautious in his interaction with women that for a moment he was taken aback by her apparent indifference to him.

      For a brief moment in Resus yesterday he’d felt a powerful explosion of chemistry and he was sure that she’d felt it too. But clearly it had been his imagination.

      He almost laughed at himself. Had he really grown so arrogant that he expected every woman to look at him?

      Unfortunately the child’s mother was looking at him with what she obviously believed to be feminine allure.

      ‘You’re the consultant?’ She scanned Stefano’s face and her eyes widened slightly. ‘What’s a volar plate? I’ve never heard of it.’

      Stefano ignored the look in her eyes and kept his response cool and professional. ‘Your finger joints are like a hinge, yes? They must bend and straighten. The bones are connected together by tough bands of tissue called ligaments. In this joint—we call it the PIP—the strongest ligament is the volar plate.’

      The mother studied his face a little more intently than was necessary. ‘So she’s pulled a ligament? Like a sprain, you mean?’

      Instinctively adjusting his body language to create distance, Stefano stepped back. ‘This particular ligament connects the proximal phalanx to the middle phalanx on the palm side of the joint.’

      ‘These two joints,’ Liv said quickly, demonstrating on her own hand and Stefano gave a faint smile because he realised that he’d made his explanation far too complicated, which was unlike him.